


Stealth and cabbages

by littlesnowarrow



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood and Violence, Elvhen Language, F/M, I suck at titles please forgive me, Short Friendship, Skadi rolls too high in acrobatics and too low on charisma, Swearing, sneaky leliana is sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowarrow/pseuds/littlesnowarrow
Summary: Skadi Mahariel is called to Denerim to deal with some assassins threatening her family, but the Inquisitor herself is also there. Venatori or not, the elf must do everything in her hand to make sure her time in Denerim goes unnoticed, especially for those who she cares for.





	Stealth and cabbages

**Author's Note:**

> Extra-delayed birthday gift for novamm66 (novamm66.tumblr.com). Hope you'll enjoy it!  
> Ps: You'll find the translation and meaning for the elvhen bits at the end of the notes

They were hard to miss, those five. Almost like the beginning of a joke -three shemlen, a durgenlen and a qunari enter a tavern-, drinking and roaring around a secluded table, the travelers were enjoying what seemed a well-deserved stop on their road. If they had wanted to go unnoticed, they were doing a poor job. Each had something that made them stand over the rest greatly, from the wrapped-in-blankets male shem to the broad horns of the qunari; but what really caught her attention was the badly-hidden flickering light in the hand of the only female.

She wasn’t specially tall, although she was sitting next to the horned guy, so one couldn’t tell for sure. Her head was of a bright red, deeper than the sun setting over a battlefield, a tattoo and nasty scar surrounding like a bow one of her eyes. There were also strange marks across her skin, mostly gathered around her cheeks, as if she had smeared the darkest of muds on her face. A mage, no doubt, the Fade flowing and whirling around her with the ease of a river.

The elf wondered what kind of magic that woman would use, to have that weird glow radiating from the mitten. A weird glow that mysteriously matched the one scarring the sky above the land.

Perhaps too soon, the mage froze at whatever the qunari had whispered into her ear, and shot a furtive glance towards her.

 _Oops_. She had been caught.

If anything else, she trusted her own skills, but didn’t want to find herself easily outnumbered in a messy fight at the back alley. She winked at her before sliding a golden coin to the bartender, and casually walked out into the surreal night. The hood concealing her features once more, she resumed her own path, the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

* * *

The sun had barely risen when Skadi Mahariel woke, the rays finding their wicked way through the leaves and branches to cast their glow on her. She didn’t want to welcome the day, not yet, and sleep for a couple of hours more, or days.

It had been a few hours since she had stopped in front of the only tree in the whole city she could take shelter in, its crown enough dense to conceal her from those looking on the floor, and its bark wrinkled so she could climb to the top without much difficulty.

The Vhenadahl, once revered in memory of the Old Days, now giving off the not-so-subtle stench of piss. She _had_ made the effort of ignoring Denerim’s alienage while she had settled her nest on the top branches, clearly in vain. Her few hours of sleep had been filled with tossing and flipping with miraculous balance, and Skadi wished she had already raided the palace by herself instead of following Lily’s new orders.

The little piece of parchment was mocking her even now, crumpled as it was in one of her pockets. “ _The Inquisitor is on the way. Watch over her,_ ” it said. Of _palal_ course. The spymaster’s plot had unravelled in her mind upon reading it for the first time, and she cursed herself for not having seen it coming. As if she had any time to spare! Not these days when the whispered song haunted her in the borders of her consciousness. She did need to be out of the city as soon as possible, and babysitting someone had never been her forte. Leliana remembered that, didn’t she? At least the party had arrived on time, hastier than the goodbye party at Amaranthine.

Skadi shook her head. She had the faint suspicion the alcohol she had shared with Oghren back then still lingered in her bloodstream, but that would only be a worthless excuse. There was no point staying there and complaining. Those “Venatori” wouldn’t die by themselves.

The weariness weighing in her still young bones didn’t stop her from stretching until all of them had popped back into place. That’s how it goes when one sleeps perched on a branch, instead of in a proper bedroll -her back would end up resenting her. The plaza underneath was buzzing with activity despite the cold, making most of the scarce sunlight in order to warm up their bodies before the afternoon would sink back in the merciless winter. She would miss the harshness of the Fereldan weather, as always. If it were up to her, she wouldn’t spend another summer in Tevinter, but she had a mission to carry out, after all.

A small choir of surprised gasps rose when her feet gracefully met the ground. She pretended not to see the filthy state in which the base of the tree was, as she strode to the south and left the Alienage behind. The streets grew cleaner and less shack-y the higher in the city she went, the looming height of Fort Drakon shadowing her memories.

The high roofs embraced her when the unabashed nobles and their servants started casting suspicious looks on her; no matter how little she cared about their thoughts, she was still a dusty and malnourished elf -Dalish!- to their eyes. Rumors couldn’t run ahead of her if she was to fulfill Lily’s request. The evil ‘Vints had to stay oblivious of her until they had all fallen under her arrows.

‘ _This is gonna be fun_ ’, she mused. She would bet her ass Lily had implicitly asked her to stay in the sidelines, although that very same concept meant she didn’t have to stand in the Inquisitor’s way. But… what if she _cleared_ the way? It’s what she had planned before receiving the bloody note. As long as the spymaster was reported the job had been done, it didn’t matter who had the author been, did it? Skadi pulled the brim of the hood deeper, hiding her mischief from the wind -Leliana had eyes everywhere.

With a swift final leap, Skadi steadied herself on the rampart that surrounded the palace, and carefully headed towards the watchtower guarding the principal gate.

Lying on the roof, she waited.

* * *

It was nearly dusk when the faintest green glow caught her attention. Going up the stairs that came from the terrace before the palace, the so-called Herald -a mage, ironically- was heatedly discussing whatever was between her hands with the other four. The joke had taken a rather dark turn -three shemlen, a durgenlen and a qunari were preparing an attack to the royal palace- and she couldn’t help but quietly snort in amusement. It surely brought back the good old days.

From her vantage point, careful that the qunari didn’t discover her like the night before, Skadi observed Lily’s boss. Unlike other mages, she wasn’t wearing robes, and instead she had chosen to use pants and a warm coat to guard herself against the snow spiralling at her feet. She seemed used to the cold, given as how her jaw wasn’t as tightly clenched as one of her shem companions. His moustache was curled in ice, trembling like a shy sapling. Another ‘Vint, if his curses where anything to go by. The durgenlen impressed her the most; under that huddled scarf, one could catch glimpses of a bravely open shirt, and… did dwarves have fur? Because that one certainly did.  

The elf quickly realised she barely knew anything from that woman; Leliana had sent her, along with the note, a stack of papers with detailed intel about her, her strange habits, affiliations, even her knee condition. Skadi groaned, brushing her hand over her face. She should have read it before the frustration took over. What was her name? Kana… Faya... Johanna? A Free Marches noble family name. Something about a circle, of course, and sketches. And a blondie? Maybe it had something to do with the last shem, all tall and red, casting short glances at her every now and then.

The guards at the gate waited until the little party reached the door to address them. “Who goes there?”

“I’m Kiaya Trevelyan, and these are Dorian Pavus, Cullen Rutherford, Varric Tethras and the Iron Bull.” Skadi snickered at the last one. Which one of them was called like _that_?

Something in her words stirred whoever was on duty in the watchtower. The soft creak of a stool, followed by hurried steps that leaned against the only slit, and the glint of an arrowhead choosing its target.

A foolish Tevinter rat already? And so close! Her heartbeat started to pound eagerly in her ribcage, the incoming skirmish brushing away the fatigue of her sleep-deprived being. Skadi rounded the icy roof and, hanging down just a little bit, pounded on the only obstacle standing between her and her prey. No one answered, of course, but she insisted. Her ears fluttered when the mysterious attacker uttered a loud growl, but at the insistence of whoever was knocking, they ran to the door and bursted out of the room.

“What?!” he shouted.

But no one was there.

A shadow pounced on him, making them spin on the frosted stones, but before he could fight off the trespasser or even steady his feet, a cutting throb slashed across his throat, life quickly abandoning him with a dreadful burble.

Skadi rose over the ‘Vint, a disappointed frown darkening her eyes. That was it? All the fuss and ruckus, and the Venatori couldn’t put up a decent fight? Lamentable.

She briefly entered the room, glancing around to catch any hint which would lead her to the rest of his crew. Nothing valuable, aside of a tied soldier on the floor.

As soon as the other shem saw her, he started screeching and writhing away from her. First, a new recruit had knocked him down and bound him so as not to cry for help, and now a cloaked figure had murdered his captor and was crouching in front of him, lazily wiping her bloodied knife with the fabric of his trousers. Maker knew what those eyes were thinking.

“Ever heard of the ‘Venatori’?” she spoke. The terrified man nodded an eternity later. “Bunch of _dahn’direlanen_ huh? Idiots.” The tip of the knife pointed the corpse. “I wouldn’t raise the alarm, if I were you. You obviously have no idea who’ve spoiled your ranks. We can’t let the King die with the Inquisition here, can we?” In a fleeting move, the rope restraining him cut loose, allowing him to regain a certain control on his body.

Skadi leaned into the window from where she’d caught the would-be assassin. Kiaya and her retinue had entered the palace oblivious of what she had avoided, its solid walls quarreling with the freezing wind undisturbed again.

The great hall embraced her with its familiar warmth, a soothing balm to her cold flesh. She allowed it to restore a bit of nimbleness to her hands; her outerwear had been good for nothing after waiting for someone to show their cards first in the open. With a thrust, she jumped to the beam closest to her and shook off what ice and snow lingered dusting her cloak. Once she had secured her position, she lazily observed what was going on down on the floor.

The King had come out to greet them, his surprise at the Inquisitor herself being there well hidden under an affable smile. A smile she had been dreaming on during so much time, and now that she could finally see it again, it filled her heart with a tenderness she had believed forgotten. She pushed the butterflies down, forcing herself to focus on the mission ahead. There were others in the room, and she still had the same intel about the attackers as when she had climbed the rampart that early afternoon.

Her gaze travelled around the guards who, like her, were watching the newcomers from the balcony overlooking the hall, or the servants that hurried away from the important meeting taking place to start preparing dinner.

It was always ironically effortless trying to infiltrate a castle -or wherever, really- when there was any kind of service involved. Ironic, because everyone was supposed to know each other, even if they had only crossed paths with another once, but it was so easy to replace someone who had fallen “ill” -by simply tying them to bed- that it took all the fun out of it. Almost like the first ‘Vint. But a challenge remained a challenge, however small.

Unintentionally, Skadi focused on the enigmatic Kiaya. She had put herself at the front of the group, although conspicuously through gritted teeth, her foot subtly placed behind the other. Her shoulder were visibly tense, now that her coat had been removed, so much that she could certainly crack a nut with a simple turn of her neck. Her fingers clenched and unclenched their grip on her staff every two breaths, battering nervously whenever someone else spoke. The King never dropped his gentleness towards her, always careful not to overwhelm her too much.

An odd title in her tongue, “king”, even after all those years. Sometimes, in the not so few moments in which she felt alone before the scale of her mission, Skadi cursed the gods for having let her make such decision. Certainly it was much safer to face off some assassins, even though they didn’t give themselves away since the beginning, than praying for the old rope bound on a ledge to hang on long enough until the cavern beneath had swallowed her whole, and that it was still there when she would have to return to the beloved surface. Or having to avoid enemy armies in whatever war going on, flee from monsters that wanted to turn her into stone, mages who wanted to use her “old blood” to summon a demon… Yes… Although the Song was singing wildly at the back of her mind those days, Alistair was safer here.

“Leli- Sister Nightingale didn’t say in her last letter the Inquisitor herself would attend my petition. I hope your stay here will be of your liking, my… lady? Your Worship,” he corrected himself. Kiaya slightly flinched at that.

_Weird._

“We’re already staying at the Gnawed Noble, your Majesty. We wouldn’t like to interfere with your daily life,” she replied, no hints of discomfort staining her voice.

“That, I heard! But please allow me to invite you to dinner. Is the very least I can do after your aid in Redcliffe.”

Did someone huff? The other mage no less! If Alistair had noticed him, he said nothing. Skadi wondered what had happened back then for him to apologise. Surely she must have heard something… involving mages, _rebel_ mages, and a nasty guy from…

Oh.

Yes, now it all made sense.

The Inquisitor turned to silently ask her companions. And of course they accepted, not everyday they could take advantage of a repentant king offer. The qunari could undoubtedly eat an entire ox, and the kitchen of Denerim’s palace would ensure their table would lack nothing.

Nothing without poisoning, naturally.

* * *

 _Too predictable_.

A woman, this time, whispered and conspired with a man over the casks of water and wine that would be served that evening. She was holding a flask of dubious content in one of her hands, while trying to uncork the barrel with her free one to pour the violet liquid in and spoil the drinks. Were they even formed assassins? Those two were so obvious anyone who’d look at their direction would grasp their plotting.

Skadi let out a long, annoyed sigh, her arms crossed before her chest. She certainly wasn’t hiding now, casually leaning on the door frame with her hood down as she was. What for, if those rats weren’t even bothering to at least pretend. Although she had to admit the ruckus running rampant over the service wing was a fog quite suitable for hiding in plain sight. Humans and elves alike were rushing wherever needed, taking what little time they had left until the King had finished guiding his guests through the palace. And, although she wasn't deliberately in their way, that hadn't prevented them from stepping over her in their haste.

Good thing they were ignoring her, though. Skadi joined the kitchen waltz, spinning around the orders of the head chef -as if she was going to obey them- like fireballs, or carefully swinging with the cookers back and forth from the biggest pots she had seen in months. The smell tempted her so, her stomach roared like a starved animal and pushed her fingers to snatch the closest meat bun she was able to reach. Licking her fingers clean, the elf watched the male ‘Vint go, apparently satisfied with the result.

Because there was no need to engage a double fight where knives were too at hand, and with so many people to hinder her movements, she allowed the shem go and focused instead on his partner. Luckily, she would finish that one off quickly, and follow the other right after so he would lead her to where the remaining worms were dwelling. A rain of arrows would fall upon them, and the threat would be over before anyone realised there were corpses bleeding in the palace. Other than the lazy guard she had found at the watchtower, though.

The woman was so engrossed in her evildoings that her jolt as she noticed an arm sliding on her shoulders was almost amusing. She carefully turned her chin towards the stranger, and her eyes glinted with distress as she realised the one holding her wasn’t her fellow countryman. She attempted to cry out loud, alert those filthy Fereldans in the kitchen that she was being attacked, but a firm hand clasped around her mouth while another gripped her hair and twisted her neck with a horrid snap.

Suddenly too heavy for her to hold, Skadi barely managed to lean the body against the poisoned barrel so it would look like she was still preparing the drinks. Well, if only the neck’s position looked natural at all. She knew from experience fresh corpses went rigid in the following hours after dying, so she positioned her head in a less suspicious angle at once.

 _Fenedhis_.

That wine would taste _great_. She had arrived late, and that wasn’t… good. There couldn’t be more casualties other than her targets, or else she wouldn’t hear the end of Lily’s scolding. Inquisitor Kiaya was an important shem she had promised to protect -and she guessed her party was included in it. Yeah, that was it. She would stole another bun as a reward for her good job.

But… maybe the other barrels hadn’t been tainted, and at least the drinks were safe. Her hands quickly patted her down in search of the flask she had held a moment ago. She had probably dropped it when the elf had surprised her, but Skadi didn’t remember hearing any glass shattering on the ground. She found it placidly settled between the hip and the tap, a light shift away from slipping and falling. Alarm rose in her upon noticing it was mostly empty, but let out a relieved sigh when she caught sight of the gooey stain on the shem’s skirt.

She hadn’t even taken a step back after the other ‘Vint that her foot got entangled with the dead woman’s ankle, tripped and fell flat on her face. Before she could register what had occurred, the shem shifted downwards in an abnormal curve, which had the bad fortune to hook the neckline of her shirt with the tap.

“Hey, are you ok?” A girl, who had been sorting out cabbages up until now, approached Skadi with concern written all over her face.

“Yeah! Sure!” the elf pulled herself on her feet and dragged the girl towards the worktables. “I saw her swaying a bit… you know.” She gestured her hand mimicking someone drunk. “You should fire her. Drinking during work hours? Nasty habit, if you ask me.”

“She might need help…”

“Nah, she’s fine. Let her drunky-rest and she’ll come back at full force before midnight.”

The girl shot her a strange look. Skadi quirked her lips up in the most charming smile she could, tugging the maid a bit more firmly this time. The girl squirmed away from her and looked back at the abnormal curve of the ‘Vint’s spine, a frown deep in her features.

“She’ll already be of no use hungover, much less if her back hurts like the Void.”

_Nonononono._

Calm down, she could salvage that.

“Alright…” the elf sighed, as if the sole thought of having to aid a drunken slug was the most pesky thing in the world, and she had better things to do -which she did. “Go grab a chair. I’ll unhitch her.”

As soon as she was alone again, Skadi hastily climbed the pile of casks and writhed in the narrow space between the wall and the spoiled barrel. Using her legs as leverage, she pushed until the barrel gave way and collapsed on the dead shem.

A loud crash silenced the kitchen. The staff exchanged puzzled looks, softly asking what had happened, forgetting their tasks for gossip. A puncheon had somehow fallen from its pile, burying one of the new helpers under splinted wood and wasted wine. The girl came back, making her way among the crowd starting to gather around the disaster. No one stopped her from crouching next to the soaked body, and made a small whine when she realised she wasn’t reacting.

Time to go, then.

“She’s not breathing!” the girl looked up at the edge of panic, desperately seeking comfort in the strange elf, who was suspiciously disappearing at the kitchen’s doorway. “Someone get that elf! GUARDS!”

Racing down the corridor, Skadi cringed at the shout. Because of that _i’tel’gon’lan_ , she had lost track of the one who had to take her to the left Venatori, and now, on top of that, the guard was aware of her presence. “ _Lasa adahl su nar masa_ ”, she mumbled a quick curse through her teeth as she run through the palace, frantically looking for the lost shem. But he was nowhere to be found.

What in the _an’banal_ was she doing? This was supposed to be a stealth mission, wasn’t it? Get in, stab stab, get out. Skadi  admitted very unwillingly it would be for the best to reach her escape route and lie down until the mood would subside. She acknowledged the risk that the attackers would attempt to finalize their mission in a hurry that same night, but it was also true their main strategy had been sabotaged, so she expected the Venatori would take some time before getting out of the shadows again. With the Inquisition there, they wouldn’t go for a plan B, right? It all implied staying in the city _a lot_ more days, postponing her own quest, delaying her true return home… She could certainly leave and let the Inquisitor do _her_ job, but she had already sworn to herself _she_ would end the threat.

‘ _They feast in wine, I feast in blood._ ’ she though. ‘ _Ew._ ’

Left, right, right, don’t turn, left. Force the door, check that drawer. A couple doors down. Pick that lock, search through the mattresses. Uh, a chest. No evidence, lots of coin -take them. Next room.

Her mental map was fuming, trying to avoid the routes she remembered were less patrolled while she poked around; although it would be of no use if they had changed the pattern in eight years -deep down she hoped they had done so. The gods were clearly at odds with her that evening, but she refused to give in. She would have to run into that slippery _durshenem_ at some point. The palace wasn’t that big! Maybe she could go back to the kitchen, use the body to attract _wanted_ attention, get rid of the snitch while she was at it. The cabbage girl could’ve been a Venatori as well, for all she knew.

The voice of her reasoning could have prevented her sooner from the heavy boots cascading down the hallway. She dropped her hands from the knob, her eyes fixed on the soldiers a few meters away. Several moments passed, in which their breathing was the only sign neither party had turned into statues.

The elf was the first to slowly shift, her eyes never leaving the soldiers’, holding them there as if she was controlling a quiver of cobras. She started backing away, increasing her speed with each step, until she got to the intersection behind her. The arcade leading to the great hall balcony was at her left, and she would have gladly rushed across and vanished through the window if the figures coming from her right hadn’t prompted her to lose her focus.

The eye contact was broken, and they were on her.

Skadi didn’t have time to process everything, and before she could at least move to the side, her face impacted against the merciless metal of someone’s plackart. She wrestled and resisted against the soldier, kicked, screeched, bit _hard_ when a gloved hand attempted to silence her. A pair of hands seized her wrists and lifted her, her hood blissfully falling over her head. Her ears twitched inside, sensing the figures from before approaching the commotion. Another guard used her momentary stillness to blow a punch on her stomach, the air knocked out of her lungs and prompting her to bend forward.

“Your Majesty!” one of the shems said between pants. “Don’t come any closer! We found this elf coming out of the offices, and word’s been spread an intruder’s killed one of the kitchen staff.”

“Is there anything we can do?” a woman said.

“No, you’re already doing enough.” A single voice, one she knew all too well, broke the sudden tension. The sound of a sword sheathing didn’t comfort her at all. “Take them to a cell. We’ll interrogate them as soon as dinner is done with.”

 The shems saluted their King, and didn’t relax until the group turned their backs on them. Only then Skadi dared to peer under the trim of her hood. The Inquisitor had lingered for a brief second, as if considering do indeed something with her or listen to her host. A new shem appeared next to her, pointing out in a respectful bow to follow the rest downstairs. Her captor yanked her in the opposite direction of the great hall, opposite to Alistair, but she didn’t budge.

“Wild little thing, aren’t you?” a soldier scoffed at her. “Bet you won’t have as much energy when Herry’s readied you for the King.”

Something clicked in.

She knew that face.

“Fuck!”

A blunt punch landed on her captor’s crotch, freedom finally back on her. The blow hadn’t been as sound as she’d preferred, because the shem immediately snatched her by the crook of the arm and booted her on the knees. Skadi dodged the blow, taking off her cloak, and leapt on him; she covered his head, and folding her legs on his chest, she jumped and threw him to the floor with a thrust. She flipped in the air, grabbing the next one by the pauldrons, and tossed her unceremonuously against the wall. Her head knocked on the solid stone and fell unconscious over his partner, who was still struggling with the cloak. Skadi turned in time to narrowly miss the third one’s blade, and as he tumbled and recovered from his own momentum, Skadi stabbed him deep in the armpit and sliced an open wound down.

Without stopping to check if the brachial artery had been properly pierced, Skadi rushed to the balcony and scanned the hall. The Inquisitor had just reached the newly arranged table, joining her companions on the king’s left. At another time, she would have wondered why they they weren’t occupying the seats at his right, being the palace special guests, or why they hadn’t removed their weapons as “protocol” established, if they were going to pretend the assassin alarm didn’t exist.

Her gaze immediately located the ‘Vint she had lost -an hour ago!- helping a maid fill tankards of ale for the table. _‘There you are.’_ The feathering of an arrow tickled her fingertips, the string drawing back almost by itself.

Someone yelled at the bottom of the stairs, distracting her _once more_ with its growing proximity. Skadi dropped the bow just as the soldier caught up with her, and using the sheer strength of her arm, the arrow was jabbed into his throat. She tossed him down the railing and jumped after him. The bloodied arrow was again in her hands, ready and aimed at the stunned ‘Vint.

Time froze around her. The startled screams and gasps muted as her ears flattened backwards and a feral snarl curled on her lips. The muscles tensed, the elbow pulling back taking with it the stress of the string.

It had become personal, hunting him down, more than it already was; a prey had never got out of her range. _Never_. Andruil had been capricious for granting him the treacherous fortune of stretching his life on a little more, only making her bloodthirst to burn wildly in her.

It was beautiful, even. Goosebumps rose on her flesh; there was always something magic in finishing an elusive target. The horror in his face, his pathetic attempt to shield himself with the unaware woman. The whistle of the arrow sang its death whisper as it flew across the halted air. She heard it too, amidst the thunderstorm crackling in her veins, and her smile widened. A pity, the fallen ‘Vints hadn’t understood what ‘staying in the sidelines’ meant.

After the initial surprise wore off, everyone’s gaze snapped back at her. The guards were on her before she could come to her senses, poorly aware of the thick blood that started to pool around her boots, and snatched her weapon and subdued her so as she wouldn’t be able to run off. She was dragged to the table in the midst of shrieks and howls, restrained by the amount of hands that were just holding her. A low growl escaped her lips when they smashed her head against the wood to pin her down.

Skadi didn’t dare looking up.

“Skadi?!” one of her ears treacherously jerked up. “You were supposed to be dead!”

_Shite._

She mockingly kneeled in the limited space and waved a hand in dismissal. “Yeah yeah, _ar lath’ma_ too. And you’re welcome, by the way.”

The tension became unbearable in the seconds that passed. The grasp on her limbs had loosened at the revelation whispered among the presents, just enough to remember she wasn’t to attempt anything, but she couldn’t move. Not when her skin was burning under the intensity of his gaze. What was he thinking? Would the voices in his head be screaming as loud as in hers?

“Your Majesty, the Hero-”

“Release her unless you want your own heads smashed on my table.” Alistair cut them off with a tone she had never heard before. A shiver run down her spine, although she couldn’t exactly choose why.

Boots took a hesitant step away, the weight on her lifting with them. The dizziness she had been pushing down since she had first lost her breath was now threatening to know her out, and had to lean on the solid sensation of the wood under her palm to put herself together. Too many blows and a terrible night’s sleep was a combination she was unfortunately too familiar with.

If that had been Leliana’s scheme all along, the Nightingale wasn’t going to hear the end of _her._

Her vision cleared as soon as her eyes locked on his. She had found it, the honeyed dye that coloured the forest of her dreams, the warm sunlight which chased away the freezing claws of demons. Her beacon, their promise. There was such melancholy, such longing… Nostalgia glistened in the tears that trailed down his pale cheeks, losing themselves in his bushy beard. He was shaking, and so was she. His scowl softened into a relieved smile, but the corners of his eyes were still creased with worry. Oh, how she wanted to ease them, to kiss away the anxiety darkening his beauty.

“You’re here,” he muttered.

The table was an unnecessary abysm between them.

“You’re lucky my _dharlinen_ were being threatened by some ‘Vint ass-AN!”

And the world turned into a blur of red.

* * *

The late night wrapped her in its mantle of moonlight and snow, those same colours she’d worn when she had stepped in the city for the first time. They had been so young, so foolish… She didn’t feel any different though. So many years later, and she was still the same hot-headed, roguish excuse of a saviour. Thank Mythal the task at hand didn’t include the entire world this time.

She regretted not having stolen a thicker coat from Alistar; she felt naked without her armour, but not as naked as she’d been barely moments before. Skadi unabashedly grinned at that, the shy snowflakes biting the heat of her skin. That had been one Void of a reunion. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, leaving home for a long period of time, if this was going to be her welcome gift. For the first time since she had left the Keep a week ago, Skadi thanked her beloved redhead.

There was someone else in the small courtyard within the palace walls. A woman, covered in a smarter cloak than hers, was sitting with her back to the elf, curled on herself, without minding the snow piling up at the top of her knees. Skadi crouched and carefully padded the frozen ground towards the unaware figure.

_Woah._

A little flower greeted her from its delicate lines on the parchment, the stem secure and far from the cold the real thing was suffering. The shading gave the realistic impression of being locked in ice, waiting for summer to melt away the gelid cage. A graceful metaphor for Ferelden, she mused.

The Inquisitor took longer than she expected to notice her presence peering over her shoulder. Her reaction was quite entertaining; Kiaya jolted and pulled the notebook to her chest while blurting a bright collection of insults in different languages. Skadi stayed kneeling on the snow with a friendly smile quirking up her lips. She let Kiaya study her for a while so that she would see the intruder meant no harm, until the human relaxed her shoulders and sat again, silently warning her she was to keep the imposed distance.

“Andraste’s fucking knickers…” she sighed. Her fingers were going to snap the pencil any minute, if she continued crushing it like that. Skadi opted not to open her mouth. “You’re the elf from the tavern.”

“That’s me, yup.”

“The Hero of Ferelden.”

“I wasn’t exactly alone…” Skadi muttered, distracted. A snowflake rested at the tip of her nose; she hastily produced a knife from a hidden pocket and slided the crystal in the blade, but the steel was too hot and it melted in an instant.

“The Prince’s mother.”

“Now that’s something I wasn’t alone doing,” Skadi snickered.

The shem played along with a snort, and focused back in her drawings.

Wasn’t she cold? Since when she had been there? Why had they stayed at the palace if they had rejected the offer before?

“Thank you for… before.” Her own voice surprised her, speaking her thoughts out loud. She had meant to keep them to herself, but showing some gratitude wouldn’t harm anyone. “Saving my boy and all. We owe you big time, and feel free to ask us anything.”

A second too late, and the cabbage girl would have bled off his son. But the Fade had yowled then, and suddenly the cups and tankards were empty and their liquids were _flying_ and slashing the traitorous maid until it fell dead and done for. Skadi had launched herself across the table and embraced his son, protected him from both the assassin and the wild magic. Alistair had pushed them behind him, and his sword found a new sheath in the chest of the girl, but Kiaya had already killed her. Skadi had owed her life to the Herald then, both admiring her and slightly fearing what her unusual skills were capable of.

“Why did Leliana send you?” There was a little wary note in her voice, and she couldn’t blame her. Skadi simply shrugged.

“Homesickness? She reads too much between lines. I’m sorry you’ll have to deal with her squealing when she gets her report.”

“Squealing?” Kiaya scoffed, staring up at her. “Sister Nightingale _doesn’t_ squeal. She judges and keeps secrets from you, and probably eats children for breakfast.”

“You’re afraid of her?”

“Everyone is afraid of her.”

A companionable silence settled between them, each deep in their thoughts. Skadi was making a tremendous effort in keeping her curiosity at bay -last thing she wanted was to disturb the woman, but at the same time she couldn’t will herself to stand and return to the warmth of the King’s bed. She knew Kiaya eyed her from time to time, maybe wanting to ask her something, maybe checking if she was still there.

“How old were you when… when the Blight began?”

Eleven years, and she was still paying the consequences of barging in that mirror’s cave. “Seventeen. I had my vallaslin for my birthday and no idea about the world outside Brecilia.” Her ears dropped at the memory. Thank Mythal Alistair had been by her side then. “And you? But weren’t you from the Marches?”

“We still heard of it up north. I think I was 23?”

“So that makes you… 35? Well, thank the Evanuri Thedas has a wiser hero this time!”

“36.” The elf frowned, confused at her words. She was most definitely not the best at maths, but at least she could work out small numbers with certain ease. Kiaya hesitated before answering, and when she did, only a whisper that spiraled into the winter night. “Today is my birthday. And I wouldn’t say wiser, though.”

Skadi took another second to process the confession.

“Wait _what_? Today is your birthday?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I wasn’t planning on-”

Before she could finish the sentence, the elf had already pounced on her and snatched the notebook to replace it for a questionable pouch. Kiaya gasped at the sudden movement, her alarmed eyes trying to follow the swift change in her lap unable to protest. Skadi impatiently opened the bag for her, seeing as she wasn’t doing it by herself, and produced one of her favourite cookies out of it. She shoved it inside the shem’s mouth with little ceremony, and forced her to chew despite the initial resistance.

“I knew raiding the kitchen before coming here was a good idea. Here.” She forced another in with the same bluntness, and this time grinned upon seeing she was munching by herself.

“These are pretty good.”

“Of course! They’re the Hero of Ferelden’s favourite pastry. That should mean something I hope?”

The Inquisitor gazed up and gave her a contented half-smile. “Thank you. You’ve already done more than my family,” her voice trailed of in a bitter tone.

“And why is that?”

She hesitated once more, and apparently found her worthy of trust yet again. “Satinalia and First Day fall too close to my birthday, and my parents decided at one point it wasn’t worth giving me that many presents. I’d spend the day playing in the snow, almost like now.”

“That’s the uttermost bullshit I’ve ever heard. Mine falls in Satinalia and I apparently still get gifts, as dead as I was until tonight.”

The Inquisitor quirked up a sad smile, but didn’t answer. ‘ _Not very talkative, this one,_ ’ she figured. The piercing cold was starting to get in her bones, and since the woman seemed to prefer being alone than having a nosy elf asking weird things -although she had started- Skadi jumped to her feet determined to go back to Alistair. But her feet halted a short metre from the door, certain remorse pooling in her belly.

A snowball squarely hit her messy bun, followed by a mischievous giggle coming from the interior wall. Kiaya stared at the little flakes falling on flower she had been drawing for an hour, astonished that someone had openly challenged her with her own element. She glanced up to the source of the snicker and traced a wide circle with her arms. The laugh came to a halt as the elf took in the snowballs forming with the help of magic, and her features twisted to those of a sly predator.

The yelling began quickly. A thrilling mix of shrieks and howls, overwhelmed by the frenziest of roars yet, thundered in the courtyard, prompting the guards on the rampart walk to stop their patrols and watch the showdown between both women.

* * *

Dawn was about to unravel the soft tendrils of the moonlight when a sudden slam knocked out the air in his lungs. Alistair sat up, the knife under his pillow on his hand, only to find his long-gone lover beaming and panting on him. He slumped back on the mattress groaning, but couldn’t hide the radiant smile that plastered on his face. He had _missed_ those sudden and Void-early mornings. His arms took her by the waist and pulled her down for a lazy kiss. The distance of all those years apart faded as he embraced the electric longing in her lips, the fresh scent of wild dew of her hair, the multiple scars that didn’t lessen the softness of her skin.

Parting for air, Skadi rolled to his side and stared at him intently. “Today’s is Kiaya’s birthday. Well, it was yesterday actually, but I ruined dinner, so we ought to pay her back.”

She was talking too fast for that hour. “Whose birthday?”

“Kiaya. The Inquisitor.”

Her fingers trailed the sharp line of his nose. “Varric told me Cullen is planning on taking her on a date around Denerim.”

“Who?”

“Cullen Rutherford. Remember him? The radical Templar at Kinloch? He’s the Commander of the Inquisition now, and rumour says he’s quit lyrium.” More like ‘Leliana says’.

“Good for him, but she still needs cake.”

Alistair chuckled. He knew her all too well to see the truth behind the unexpected burst of ‘generosity’. It wouldn’t be a problem -Assan had taken after his mother’s sweet tooth, so there were always more than enough ingredients for such recipes. He could order the kitchen closed for a couple of hours, have his son and the love of his life bake a surprise together, relish on a special Antivan chocolate he could foresee the elfs would love… Spend time with his family, together. Yes, it sounded like a good plan.

“Why don’t we wait until they’ve left to get to the kitchen?” He could use a couple more hours of sleep.

“And what do you suggest we do in the meantime?” she purred. Her breath tickled the sensitive skin under his ears, and his own hitched with desire.

“I believe I have something in mind…”

**Author's Note:**

> Shem: human  
> Durgenlen: (male) dwarf  
> Palal: present participle of "to fuck"  
> Dahn'direlanen: plural to "idiot"  
> Fenedhis: common curse word (literally, "wolf's dick")  
> I'tel'gon'lan: punk  
> Lasa adhal su nar masa: "Shove a tree up your ass"  
> An'banal: the Void  
> Durshenem: bastard  
> Ar lath'ma: "I love you"  
> Dharlinen: pups/puppies


End file.
